The Dream of a King
by Quietly Making Noise
Summary: A spinoff to Eyes of the Oracle. The Merovingian calls Tiresias in for some late night questioning. One shot. Backstory included, for those who've wisely stayed away from EotO.


_A spin off to Eyes of the Oracle. The Merovingian calls Tiresias in for some late night questioning. Quotes from 'Oedipus the King' by Sophocles; the entire exchange is one of my most favourite arguments ever._

**_Backstory:_**

_For those who do not wish to plough through that detestable fic…_

_Based on the system that every program has a RSI human template, the Merovingian searches out and finds the Oracle's template, a human rebel named Tiresias. Normally the programs and humans resemble one another, but if a program continues past the reload, the RSI is allotted to another, random human._

_Aerial, from the same ship as Ti, is twinned with another OC working for Merv: Falcon. She has been captured for experimentation. The story takes place just before Neo was released._

_Bon, le fic, alors…_

∞ ∞ ∞

The Merovingian sat back in the chair, simmering. Tiresias still faced the table, his fingers in his hair. Having woken him in the small hours with his dream, the Merovingian was finding the prophet a tough nut to crack.

'Let me go home,' the human repeated. 'It's best for you to bear your burdens.'

'No prophet would withhold their prophecies,' scorned the Frenchman.

'"_Thy words, O king, are wide of the mark_,"' quoted Tiresias, scowling.

'You read me Sophocles, how very educated.' The Merovingian leaned forwards, knowing the human could sense the dangerous closeness. 'I have described the dream to you, now tell me the meaning.'

Tiresias sighed. 'I will not tell you.'

'But you know?'

'Yes.'

'Insolent boy! Will nothing make you speak?' raged the Frenchman.

'"_It will come what will, though I be mute."'_

'More poetry.' The Frenchman yanked the human's hair and made him turn his face up. '"_Since it will come, thy duty is to tell me_,"' he answered in kind.

Tiresias' grey eyes blinked. '"_I have no more to say; storm as thou willst, and give the rein to all thy pent-up rage_."'

The Merovingian released his grip and flung Tiresias away from him. The young man toppled backwards off the chair and crumpled to the ground with a small cry. The Merovingian watched him pick himself up and grope for the fallen chair. '"_Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint my words, but speak my whole mind_,"' he continued, keeping his voice soft. 'If you were not blind, I would think _you_ had put the dream in my head. You mewling frail creature, a prisoner in my house. Answer me!'

Tiresias stood up, his shaking hands gripping the back of his chair. Strands of auburn hair fell over his face. 'Your dream, King of Exiles, is yours, and your making alone. Do not shoot the messenger.'

'Speak.'

Tiresias sat down carefully and put his head in his hands. 'The key you held was the program,' he said wretchedly. 'The hole down which it fell the end of all things. The kiss was for your wife but it was not given to her. The woman with the heart of code was the force of many storms; the blood-stained wings were for the prodigal child. The everlasting snake was the infection that will spread through all. The fight will be fought, and the château will lose.'

The Merovingian struck him.

Tiresias, clutching his cheek, smiled dryly. 'I told you not to shoot me.'

'"_Thou, in ear, wit, eye, in everything, art blind_!"'

'There's none so blind as those that will not see.'

'The château will never fall!'

'I have spoken.' Tiresias fell silent, the fingers of one hand toying with his pendant.

'"_Thou lov'st to speak in riddles and dark words_,"' hissed the Merovingian poisonously.

'"_I ne'er had come hadst thou not bidden me._"' The silence extended, punctuated by the Frenchman drumming his fingers. Eventually Tiresias looked up. '"_Tis time I left thee."_'

The Merovingian reached for the button underneath the table and unlocked the restaurant doors, and immediately Aerial came flying in. '"_Aye, take him quickly, for his presence irks and lets me; gone, thou canst not plague me more_."'

The girl looked from Tiresias' flushed cheek to the Frenchman. 'What have you done?'

Tiresias stood up with a slight wince. 'It doesn't matter…'

Aerial smouldered, and the Merovingian met her glare.

'"_Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not harm me_,"' interjected the young man, with another wry smile.

'Indeed.' The Merovingian stood up and roughly pushed back his chair, making it scrape. He was followed to the exit by Tiresias' quote ringing in his ears.

'"_Go in and ponder this, and if thou find that I have missed the mark, henceforth declare I have no wit nor skill in prophecy!_"'

∞ ∞ ∞


End file.
